


My Soul (always always always)

by Atlanta_Black



Series: prompts and ideas that will never go anywhere [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fem!Harry, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Tom Riddle's Diary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 12:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18660469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atlanta_Black/pseuds/Atlanta_Black
Summary: You are my soul. The only thing I’m scared of losing.





	My Soul (always always always)

He finds her in a field of fucking flowers. Hair red as blood and runes carved into the ground around her. And when he approaches she looks up and grins, looking wild and feral and beautiful and Tom aches. Tom aches as he never has before, didn’t even realize he could feel an ache this deep.  
  
He’s been back for a mere month and already he doesn’t understand how to do anything but be entranced by this girl.  
  
“Harri what are you doing?” he asks, tries not to sigh, tries not to let his eyes wander. _Tries, tries, tries._

She’s so painfully underage and even though this body is technically sixteen he is decades older than her.  
  
She grins, teeth bared and he already knows that he won’t like what she says.

 

“I broke your wards.” she says, voice full of laughter.

 

He stares, breathes in, breathes out. She’s only fifteen and still distractingly naive and has no idea the absolute absurdity of those words.

 

“Why?” he asks, barely keeping the absolute exasperation from his voice.

 

She shrugs, all long limbs and wide eyes and he thinks he’s losing his mind. He can’t seem to focus on anything besides the way she moves and he’s going to go mad at this rate.

 

“The last conversation we had, before we get you out of the diary, you said I wasn’t magically, mentally or physically old enough for you to ever consider me an equal.” she states this the same way one might state the weather.

 

“Do you mean to say, that you yanked my wards apart as a fucking demonstration?” he all but snarls out. Of all the irresponsible things she could have done.

 

She tilts her head and considers him for a moment and then in the time it takes him to blink she’s invaded his space.

 

“I can’t do anything about my physical age but you’ve spent two years talking to no one but me.” she says, eyes intent on his face. “You know exactly how mature I am, so tell me Tom, tell me what’s really bothering you?”

 

He feels like he’s drowning. She’s so close he can fucking smell her and he hates this. Hates that he finally got out of that fucking diary and all he can think about is her. Wishes it had been anyone else who had picked his diary up all that time ago.

“What are you so scared of, Tom?” she whispers.

 

She on her tiptoes, trying to get a better look into his eyes and the thought whispers through his head before he can help it.

 

_What is age to one who will never die. What is age when the other one holds a piece of your soul, when they once held you in the palm of their hand and smiled._

 

He kisses her before he can think to stop himself. One hand on the back of her neck, one tangled in her hair and she goes absolutely still. So still that for a second he thinks maybe this is it, after everything else, this is what will send her running away.

 

But it’s only for a moment. Before he can pull away she’s responding so viciously that he wonders why he had made himself wait this long. She has both hands tangled in his hair and is kissing back him with an intensity that makes him _burn._

 

_And the Dark Lord will mark her as his equal, but she will have power the Dark Lord knows not…_

 

He wonders if this is what the seer had meant all those years ago. The power that he would not know.

 

She sighs, a breathy noise, caught in the back of her throat and if he could, he would hide her away forever. Hide her away where no one but him could ever hear her voice or her sighs. No one else could see those eyes staring at them.

 

“You are my soul.” he murmurs into her neck, “The only thing I’m scared of losing.”

 

He pulls back and she’s smiling at him. A small, sad thing that only highlights some other emotion lingering in her eyes.

 

“Is that the only reason you’re scared of losing me Tom Riddle? Because I hold a piece of your precious, precious soul.”

 

He stares.

 

“You _are_ my soul.” he says again before turning and leaving the way he came.

 

“One day I might not be though. One day I might just be Harry. And what then Tom? What then?” she yells the words at his back and he pauses for barely a second before continuing back to the house.

 

That would never happen. She was his soul and would always be his soul no matter what he had to do to ensure it.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a challenge in the Tomarry discord. I posted it on Tumblr but I just got around to posting it here!
> 
> I don't think I'll ever take this anywhere else honestly but you never know.


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